As a millennial I have a comprehensive list of some “must-have” things my next mode of transport has to include: It had to be a hybrid (powered half by electricity and half by unicorn dreams), needed ample room for my Starbucks’ lattes, and, of course, the ability to stream my collection of indie rock songs.

My uncle, my cousin and I walked into the dealer and spent an inordinate amount of time mulling over numbers, fuel efficiency and pondering the responsibilities of car ownership and its associated carbon footprint. If I drive Model X, how many endangered wallabats in Corto Maltese will meet their maker compared to choosing Model Y? During the shopping experience, I was proud to think I was doing my part in protecting the wallabats (let’s ignore what happens to those batteries after few years) by making responsible choices.

After some time at the first dealer, my uncle on a whim suggested we check out a different car dealer. We walked in and a kind fellow showed us his brand’s offerings. After being shown the second model, my uncle said to me “You’re not going to buy anything here, are you?” I shook my head.

My cousin yelled over, “What about this one?” I was intrigued at the model he saw. The first question I asked the salesman: “Can I hook up my iPad via Bluetooth right now so I can stream my Facebook feed with the built in Wi-Fi when I drive?” After all, we’re millenials; we always need to be connected.

The salesman got the key, opened the door, and that was it. The car had everything I wanted and more. The price was right and, most importantly, my fiancée approved.

After signing on the dotted line, the process was done. The Murdocco household now has a Dodge Charger. It doesn’t have Wi-Fi, but it does have a 5.7-liter Hemi engine.

When I was a toddler, my mother used to buy me Matchbox cars when we went to Genovese in Setauket. My brother showed me how to work on cars with me when I was in high school. In typical Italian fashion, when someone in the family got a new car, it was, and in many ways still is, an occasion. Growing up on Long Island, a car, evil or not, is necessary for navigating the suburban landscape. In the coming decades, I don’t see that changing. This is why we need to invest in all of our infrastructure, not just the rails.

Millennials don’t appreciate the automobile as much as their parents did. To me, that’s unfortunate, especially considering the renaissance that we’re seeing in the domestic market. Every car is a work of art. It represents thousands of man-hours and is a true labor of love.

We often speak of downtown redevelopment, walkability and sustainable living. These are all valid concepts and ideals to move toward, but nothing will ever replace the freedom of driving, the notion that at any moment you can have an adventure at the turn of a key. It’s romantic in its own way. Sometimes, I still go for a drive just for the sake of driving.

Life is too short and Long Island will always be too crowded. That doesn’t mean that late at night, when everyone else is off the roads, you can’t take a moment to appreciate the connection between yourself and the personal sanctuary that your automobile represents.